


Coda: In Unison

by TenkeyLess



Series: Coda: [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frottage, Gotta support each other when you have eons stretching ahead of you, Implied past Emet-Selch/Amaurotine!WoL and Elidibus/Amaurotine!WoL, M/M, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Possessive Behavior, partially-clothed sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenkeyLess/pseuds/TenkeyLess
Summary: With eons spanning ahead of them, Elidibus comes to Emet-Selch with a bargain. Seeking mutual succor in the face of their long work, it's up to the Emissary to persuade the Architect to find his balance before he resumes work on the Ardor.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Elidibus
Series: Coda: [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599124
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Coda: In Unison

From a time not long after the Sundering...

* * *

"Emet-Selch."

"Elidibus, to what do I owe the honor." The Architect glances up from his note-laden desk, papers scattered in a flurry of manic work. At the eye of this hurricane of thought sits Emet-Selch, Hades, furiously crafting concept after concept to rejoin the thirteen shards. His white hair is unkempt, sweat slicked in disarray and a foreboding sign on the usually fastidious man.

Elidibus approaches, head demurely canted to observe the matrices spread across the sizeable desk.

"I come to you with a bargain, Emet-Selch." The white-robed Emissary raises his eyes to lock them on his red-masked cohort. Running a hand through his white locks in a familiar motion, given the slicked up hair in his hand's path, Emet-Selch rocks back in his chair and turns his gaze to Elidibus.

"What manner of bargain do you have, that you would come to me _now_ , Elidibus. Your presence is a distraction I can ill afford, as we are called to bring our best efforts against what Hydaelyn has wrought."

"A bargain based in mutual succor."

Emet-Selch startles at the bold declaration, eyes wide behind his mask. Narrowing in consideration, he regards the placid Emissary with no small amount of disbelief.

"Succor--from you, Emissary? I can hardly conceive the notion that has led you to offer such a preposterous suggestion."

"This is a long road we walk, Emet-Selch. And unlike Lahabrea, we have no intermediate recourse."

"That's--his fragment of Igeyorhm is intact enough. It will not be long before we are able to restore a fragment of the Fourteenth as well."

Elidibus shakes his head slowly, pityingly, infuriating Emet-Selch.

"You know we must needs wait until the souls on the Source are further restored, before attempting to elevate our wayward comrade. Such a pale shade will not survive two warring Blessings, you know this. And given our current progress ushering in each Ardor, it is beyond presumptuous to stake your well-being on such a distant goal."

"What would you have me do, then!" Emet-Selch shouts, pushing up from his seat to send his chair scraping against the floor with a sour note. He paces, agitated, behind the desk, boots clacking a rapid tempo.

"Accept my bargain, Emet-Selch." The Architect whips to face Elidibus, anger simmering in the pressed lips below his mask. The Emissary continues, undeterred. "Together we might stay our looming imbalance, focus kept properly on Lord Zodiark's return, until such time as we can reclaim a piece of our Fourteenth."

"That is the _second_ time to have referred to them as 'ours'. While I appreciate your concern for our Convocation brethren, you _are_ aware that the Fourteenth is _mine_."

Elidibus spreads his hands wide in supplication, a mocking note entering his level voice.

"Come now Emet-Selch, dissembling never suited you. The Fourteenth was never so much yours as their own, and you were _certainly_ not the only one with designs on their time."

The Architect _bristles_ at the Emissary's tone, soul roiling hot at the provocation.

"Is this a confession, then, Elidibus? With this in the open, whatever possessed you to think I would entertain even the _thought_ of seeking _succor_ between us." Emet-Selch spits, voice pitching low, darkly preceding the lash of aether behind it. Stripped of its thin veneer of calm, his soul crackles, thunderous and foreboding at the Emissary's words.

Elidibus stands unflinching as the shelving besides him shatters into splinters. Curving one arm up, glacially slow in the face of Hades' rage, the Emissary takes his mask of office in hand and places it on the desk between them. Emet-Selch's aether immediately stills, taken aback at the intimate gesture, his eyes graced with Elidibus' face for the first time. Solemn silver eyes meet his gold, still hidden behind the mask of Emet-Selch. Hades' mouth hangs open, incredulous at the unveiled Emissary's action. Yet his disbelief does naught to stay Elidibus' rejoinder.

"I thought, Emet-Selch, given our mutual hearts ache, that we two are the _most_ suited to provide each other succor."

"...You are in earnest." Emet-Selch slowly draws his arms around himself, selfish hug holding him together as his soul quivers in barely contained sorrow. So much loss, avoided and delayed by throwing himself at the solution, the Ardor, the return of his God that will make all aright. All as it should be, should ever have been. He can feel his mind all-too ready to fray and succumb to that ever present sadness, and seizes on Elidibus' offer with tarnished hope. Perhaps, perhaps it will all seem less tragic when cradled in the arms of another. When shielded by a heart turned towards a mutual love.

Decided, he raises a hand to remove his own mask, and places it beside Elidibus' on the desk. Keeping his eyes fixed on the Convocation red, he delivers his answer to the waiting Emissary.

"I...accept."

Elidibus' gracious smile and swirl of approving aether stirs something shoved deep and ignored within Hades. Cautiously easing up his grip on the hidden emotion, he finds lust rousing him as little has since the End Days. He shifts in place, robes obscuring his reaction, as Elidibus slowly approaches him from around the desk.

A gloved thumb brushes across his cheek, cool metal glinting in the low lighting. With a start, Emet-Selch realizes the sun has been set for some time, aches from his slouched posture coming to the fore. Perhaps a break, a little indulgence in baser pleasure is necessary after all. Casting his wondering gaze back to the Emissary, he ponders how long Elidibus has been watching to note the neglect of his person. He finds Elidibus' silver eyes searching, querying, unsure of his reception.

Unusual though it may be, Hades will not settle for anything less than a stirring performance. He seizes Elidibus' wrist, turning the palm to his lips for a tender kiss. His gold eyes slide to meet the Emissary's gaze, holding it as he draws a clawed digit into his mouth to suck. Hollowed cheeks meet the quality leather as Hades provokes the Emissary to action. Silver eyes narrow at the challenge, and suddenly Hades is drinking down aether as the glove dissipates. The warm finger, uncovered, presses down on his tongue as its partners hold his face immobile for Elidibus' perusal. Soft lips brush against his cheek and trail up to the corner of his eye, pale silver lashes meeting white as the Emissary rests his face aside Hades'.

"Clear the desk." 

Emet-Selch draws his fingers together to snap, instantly obeying the Emissary's command. Sidling back onto the cleared desk, Elidibus draws Hades up between his legs, finger still cradled in the moist warmth of his soon-to-be partner's mouth. The Emissary grins, plying his free hand along Emet-Selch's torso while he flicks his captive finger. Even through his robes, Emet-Selch leans into the tender touch, parched soul drinking in the honest contact. He nips Elidibus' finger before drawing it in deep, sucking lewdly on the slender digit. Hiking his robes up past his waist with his free hand, the Emissary reveals toned muscle and naught else beyond his boots and smallclothes.

"I'll need that hand back, now. Come here."

Drawing Hades over him, Elidibus presses lips to hungry lips, rough and insistent. Hades cannot help but respond, clothed torsos pressed together as he braces his forearms by the Emissary's head. Hips nearly touch, heat barely contained, as Elidibus carefully pulls his heels up onto the desk.

"Free yourself, and we shall be mutually satisfied." Elidibus whispers against Hades' lips. Responding quickly, Hades leans on one arm while the other sneaks downwards, hiking his robes up in a mirror of the Emissary's undress. With a thought, their smallclothes dissipate, wisps of constituent aether ticklish against the curls of hair at their navel before it disperses. The cool air hits their fevered skin like a blow, and the two men shiver in synchronicity. Their cocks jostle together with the movement, drawing a low moan from Hades while Elidibus grasps the Architect's stiffening length in his warm hand. Pressing their cocks together, the Emissary gently rolls his hips, binding them together for delicious friction.

"Now," Elidibus orders hoarsely, "now you move."

Tentatively at first, then with increasing urgency Hades frots against the Emissary below him. Hips snap forward, cock sliding against Elidibus' swiftly oiled length, a belated thought to smooth his rutting. Panting breath loud in the locked study, Hades closes his eyes to lose himself in unfettered sensation. Elidibus in turn allows himself an easing of composure; revelling in the _sight_ , the _sounds_ , this _pleasure_ found in the man above him. All _his_.

"C-close." Hades gasps, tucking his head into the crook of the Emissary's flushed neck. Turning his head, Elidibus licks the sweat beading on Hades' straining neck, a small anchor in the tumult of sensation. Rutting helplessly into Elidibus' warm hold, pleasure cresting, the Architect bites down on the Emissary's offered skin. Elidibus cries out, bucking up against Hades, and nearly misses the Architect whimpering out _the Fourteenth's_ name as he finds his peak. Bliss ripples through Hades' soul as his body paints the lean form below, and Elidibus finds himself _overwhelmed_. Soul's borders hazy with the pleasure running through his frame, he clings to Hades glorious soul, so bright in its release as he finds his own.

Shuddering together, the Ascians collapse fully onto the desk, grace forgone in their break from duty. Racing breath calms in time, and Emet-Selch lifts himself off the white speckled Emissary below. Standing askance at the head of the desk, robes fluttering down from his waist to conceal his form once more, he regards Elidibus' bare face with apprehension trembling through his aether. Succor shared, uncertainty lingers through the fringes of Hades' soul on how they are to proceed together.

The Emissary, in turn, appears utterly unflustered despite the intimacy shared moments before. Brushing a hand down his torso, his glove reforms as the evidence of their coupling vanishes. He sits up, unhurried, as his bootheels clack loud onto the floor, ignoring the trepidation laced aether brushing against his like a nervous pet. Grinning to himself at how off-balance he's set the Architect, he relents after storing the memory away for a darker day.

Elidibus' white robes fall back over his legs, soft cloth shifting soundlessly, as he stands beside the lanky man. Extending a hand in reassurance, his soul offers a comforting stroke to the wavering edge of Emet-Selch's.

"I trust you found that satisfactory, Emet-Selch?" Gathering himself visibly, the Architect grasps the Emissary's proffered hand in a tight grip.

"A suitable measure of distraction, yes." A red blush still burns at the tips of his ears, and the Architect seizes on his mask of office to hide his lingering dishevelment as their hands release each other. Elidibus takes his time reclaiming his mask, silver eyes keen on Emet-Selch's particular little gestures as the black-garbed man returns the banished plans and matrices to his desk.

"I will call on you again, if you do not seek me out before then."

Emet-Selch nods, already drawing his shell of dignity and distraction around himself. His hidden eyes flick from plan to desperate plan, unseeing of the Emissary's regard. Dismissed, Elidibus summons void to him to depart, Zodiark's chorus of whispers for his cherished Emissary most **pleased**.

**Author's Note:**

> :3 Hope you all enjoy this Emet/Elidibus!
> 
> Thanks as always to the [wholesomely debauched Bookclub discord](https://discord.gg/PvbG45u) for their infectious enthusiasm <3


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